William L. Petersen

On CSI, whenever William L. Petersen's bowlegged gait popped up, it seemed like a believable, if superfluous, trait for an egg-headed, insect-loving scientist with few social skills. The truth is that Petersen's gait is partly the product of the way he spent his youth, as a mega jock tearing up his knees playing baseball and football.

It's just one of many surprises that await the casual William L. Petersen fan, the fan who knows CSI and a few other gigs, but not much more. In fact, Petersen, a champion of serious actors and outspoken critic of the stifling studio system, has thus far enjoyed an uncommon career in Hollywood thanks to a nonconformist conviction driven by personal control over every aspect of his work.

Appeal

Guys may not immediately think William L. Petersen is the matinee idol material of a Tom Cruise or a Brad Pitt, but think again: women love this guy. He was recently on the cover of Newsweek in a full beard, looking like a dashing, debonair and urbane Sean Connery -- OK, maybe that's an exaggeration, but still. In 2004, CSI producer Carol Mendelsohn told the Philadelphia Inquirer that, before the show had filmed a single episode, her female friends begged her to let them visit the set. "You start with [his] sheer magnetism," she said. "Plus he's so handsome."

And that was pre-Grissom. As Gil Grissom, Petersen created a paternal but emotionally distant character, flaying open a far-off vulnerability many women found irresistible -- the kind that convinces them that they could be the one to open him up, they could be the one to open his heart. This aspect may help explain why, when Grissom left the CSI labs, he went directly into the arms of a love interest.

Success

We reserve certain spaces in the pantheon of admirable men for those who trust themselves, write their own ticket, hold to their convictions, and still conquer the mountain. William L. Petersen is one of those men.

To a degree, Petersen is Hollywood's version of Carlos Kleiber. Petersen may or may not understand what this means, but Gil Grissom likely would have: Kleiber was one of the great conductors of the latter half of the 20th century, despite never holding a musical directorship at a major orchestra. Unlike his peers, he was his own agent, once even negotiating to conduct a single program in exchange for a custom-made $100,000 vehicle. He was enigmatic and brilliant; he did his own thing and didn’t give a damn what others were doing or how they did it. Petersen's career is not too dissimilar.

"I've had it pretty good," said Petersen once. "I've had it my own way."

William L. Petersen Biography

William Petersen's parents had no intention of having a sixth child; thus, he was not only the baby of the family, but eight years separated him from his nearest sibling.

Born to suburban Chicago parents with five children, none younger than 8, growing up, William L. Petersen was hardly a nerdy or psychologically troubled member of the theater department. Rather, he was a massive, multi-sport jock. Who knows? Maybe he even picked on the theater dweebs. Whatever the case, he dropped out of high school in Chicago and finished up in Boise. While attending Idaho State and going out for its football team, he learned that school athletes could score class credits helping out the theater department -- his first taste of acting.

william l. petersen founds a chicago theater group

Petersen returned to the Chicago area in 1979, and he wasted little time making his theatrical mark, joining up with fellow stage actor Gary Cole to found the Remains Theater Ensemble -- a group that would, in the early 1980s, watch a number of cast members see mainstream success, including John Malkovich, Gary Sinise, Laurie Metcalf and John Mahoney.

william l. petersen is an overnight star

Petersen's work on the Chicago stage led to a most improbable big break: the lead in the 1985 feature To Live and Die in L.A., directed by Billy Friedkin, previously known for directing The French Connection and The Exorcist, among other films (over 20 years later, Petersen invited Friedkin to direct a pair of CSI episodes). The lead in Michael Mann's Manhunter followed. Hollywood had his star prepped and ready for him, all he had to do was take it.

Instead, Petersen passed.

william l. petersen dodges stardom

For the next 15 years, Petersen found steady work in film and television, but his career was an uncommon one because of the way he managed it: Almost unimaginably, he eschewed having an agent, instead assuming direct control over his work and career. He turned down roles in major films by big-name directors like Oliver Stone, and accepted roles in smaller ones, guided by his conscience, artistic sense and a healthy disdain for the studio system.

william l. petersen as gruesome grissom

Come 1999, executives at CBS had wanted Petersen on the network for a number of years, but the projects were never right. Then along came the no-name driver of a Las Vegas luggage tram named Anthony Zuiker, who had this idea about a show that focused on a meticulous crime scene unit in a major metropolitan city. CSI debuted modestly in 2000 with Petersen in the role of night-shift supervisor Gil Grissom. He had almost no expectations for the show.

Nine wildly successful seasons later, Petersen walked away from the iconic role after having seen his per-episode salary go up a factor of 10 in that time, from around $65,000 in 2000 to over $600,000 for a few episodes in season nine.

william l. petersen returns to the stage

In February 2009, Hollywood finally managed to carve him an actual star on the Walk of Fame, just in time to see him ditch Los Angeles for Chicago, where he has become a member of the famed Steppenwolf Theatre Company -- proving yet again that Petersen's interest is not in how famous he can become or in how much money he can command, but in the craft of acting.

You don't have to like his work, you don't have to think much of CSI, but you have to hand it to William L. Petersen. Men like him inspire us all: He's had it pretty good, as he said -- not in spite of doing it his way, but because of it.